Laws Of The Universe
by Valina
Summary: A series of drabbles with multiple pairings, multiple ratings and multiple universes. Rated in case of later chapter content. :3
1. The Law of Bee

**A/N: Based off of one of the drabbles I did in my Music Meme.  
Also, it's based off of the scene in Elektra. For those of you who have seen it, you know what I'm talking about. XD**

* * *

Prowl admired Bumblebee for a set few things: his happy, carefree ways, his inability to care about what any other bot thought about him, and how he could be so easily insubordinate; he was everything Prowl wasn't. Perhaps that's what drew them together. Now that he had Bee the way he wanted, he wouldn't settle for anything less. The ninja-bot wanted everything that Bee possessed, and he felt almost as if spark-bonding with the bot could grant him that.

And although Bee was easily annoying, something about him was easily lovable too. When Bee wasn't running around with Sari, and when Prowl wasn't meditating, the little mech was with the ninja-bot, in his arms, talking up a storm. Prowl couldn't say that he had ever been happier than in those moments--not that he would actually _say_ it to anybot, but he wouldn't have it any other way.

He held Bee tighter at the thoughts, too unwilling to let him go as he jabbered endlessly about things Prowl knew nothing of.

After almost a megacycle of listening to the smaller bots words with a few of his own thrown in, whether in agreement or some small opinion of his, the ninja-bot figured it was time that maybe _he_ could do something he wanted to do.

So, he slowly sat himself up, pushing the smaller yellow mech out of his lap tenderly, ignoring his question of what he was doing. He crossed his legs and motioned for Bumblebee to sit across from him. The younger bot did, sitting with his legs splayed open on either side of Prowl's knees.

"Bumblebee, cross your legs. I want to see if you can meditate."

"Aw, are you serious? You know I can't do that stuff…"

Prowl looked into the smaller mech's blazing blue optics, so full of life and an endless, young curiosity. The heat that shot through his systems made him relax all the more, "Please, just once. If you can't, I promise I won't ask you again."

The yellow bot seemed to consider it silently for a few astroseconds. Finally, he responded with a grin, "Alright, alright, but just this once, ninja-bot."

Prowl let the corner of his mouth pull upwards in the hints of a smile as he watched Bumblebee cross his legs and sit close enough to him for their knee joints to just barely brush against each other.

As soon as the smaller bot stopped moving, the larger mech began his instructions, "Offline your optics," he started, and watched as Bumblebee almost reluctantly did so. He shortly followed suit, satisfied that the little bot had done what he'd asked, "Now, even out your intakes, let yourself slowly relax," Prowl did as he articulated and paused a few seconds to allow Bumblebee to do the same.

It was unbearably still and silent for a few moments, and it was in that time that the older bot could sense movements in front of him. It felt like Bumblebee was waving his servo in front of his optics for a number of astroseconds until the other bot's energy field came incredibly close. In his processor's optic, he could feel the littler mech's face mere centimeters away from his own, most likely making rude facial gestures at him. Of course. How could he expect any less from _Bumblebee_, the close-minded, selfish, speed demon that thought he was above Prowl's _stillness_.

For the first time in a long while, Prowl had to make a conscious effort to keep a straight face because of the plan he was hatching in his processor, and the reaction he knew it would garner from Bumblebee.

He cycled deeply, but slowly as he soundlessly prepared himself for his harmless strike.

Swiftly, almost unable to be seen by the naked human eye, Prowl brought his hands up and let out a wordless yell, right back into the face that was in front of his.

With a yelp, Bumblebee fell backwards, collapsing in a heap of giggles at the joke he had so easily fallen for. Prowl watched the short yellow bot as he had his little fit. He allowed himself to grin, relishing in the amusement and joy that pulsed through his systems at making the small bot react so wonderfully.

He'd remind himself to loosen up a bit more often, just as long as he could spend more times like these with the devious little bot that he had let himself give in to.


	2. Feelings Unfelt

**A/N: Character death. Slight AU.  
G1. Surprise pairing.**

**Slightly inspired by the song, "You Make Me Sick" by Egypt Central.  
Heavily inspired by a long car ride and my Zune's shuffle button. :D**

* * *

He was gone. Things would be different now. Better? Worse? He couldn't tell. He still hated what he'd done for all those stellar cycles. Hated that he had no control, hated that he couldn't bring himself to stop. Even if the mech he was caught up with _did_ make him sick when they were outside the privacy of his quarters. He couldn't stop the remembrance that endlessly gripped his processor…

_It was dark. The door slid open and closed silently. The only thing he saw was the vague outline of a bulky frame that had let itself into his quarters. He heard the sound of the lock being set and the slow, heavy ped-falls of a mech approaching him._

_He tried to dig himself deeper into the berth he was lying on, but his own rather bulky form and wingspan kept him from doing so. He cycled a sigh as he thought of what was to come. Apprehension, yet excitement flooded his systems as he tried to get himself to relax._

_This was the story almost every time the other occupants of the Nemesis were to be recharging. The communications officer would let himself in soundlessly, take him almost soundlessly, and leave just as soundlessly—rather odd, considering his name._

_The grounded mech was upon him now, lowering himself so that one knee joint was on either side of his hips, where his interfacing cables and ports were housed. The heat already coming off of the other 'Con on top of him was enough to make his own temperature rise, even through the disgust that he felt in the pit of his fuel tank. He knew that the bigger bot was aware of how he thought about this, about him, what with his telepathic abilities; there was no way around it. But he couldn't deny, even if he wanted to, that the fourth in command was a wonderful 'face._

_He couldn't stop this even if he wished. Thank Primus there were no feelings behind their madness, so even if one of them was taken offline, there would be no mourning. At least that's as far as the red-and-white seeker knew __**he**__ felt; he wasn't the one that could read others' thoughts._

_The all-too-familiar sound of the other mech's face mask retracting filled the room and before he knew it, he felt the same glossa and denta on his sensitive neck components, biting, licking, nibbling, and eliciting a soft moan from his vocalizer. The pleasure was enough to win out the revulsion at least one more time, and he let the other mech do as he wished; as long as Soundwave didn't go anywhere near his Spark, Starscream couldn't bring himself to care. It just felt too slagging good._

Stellar cycle after stellar cycle, their meetings went on and on, always in private, and still, no sort of feelings of attachment arose. The only ones that had any clue of the nearly nightly visits were his trine mates, and of course they said nothing of it. They knew how guilty he felt, but they also knew that he just could not bring himself to stop using the telepath for his own release, even if he couldn't stand the other Decepticon any other time of the solar cycle.

It wasn't like Soundwave minded, it was something for him too.

Yet when he was taken during battle, fatally wounded straight through the Spark by Prime's energy sword, Starscream couldn't help but lament. Just like he swore to himself he wouldn't.

He spent several solar cycles in his quarters, silently reliving all the nights that the larger mech had let himself into this room, pleasured the second-in-command without a single word, and then left. The more he thought about it, the more he couldn't help but wonder: Was there something that Soundwave had felt in that length of time that he hadn't? Was that why he'd kept coming back, even after Starscream made it clear that it wasn't like it used to be?

All the unanswered questions angrily ate at his processor, oblivious to his attempts to push them away.

It didn't matter now. Soundwave was gone. Starscream kept trying to tell himself that, always failing to convince himself.

He sat, legs crossed in his berth, trying to think of a decent reason to switch rooms. Maybe he'd bully one of his trine mates into trading. Or he could always pull rank on some other 'Con. He needed get away from the countless memories that this room held. The sooner he got the deceased telepath out of his processor, the better. There was no reason for them to be there anyway; there had been no feelings, after all, no attachment.

Maybe he'd go ruff up his leader. That would surely get his processor off the things he shouldn't be dwelling upon. Or, maybe, a nice long stretch of his wings would help... Anything to make the memories die just as quickly as the mysterious mech had.


	3. Once Is All It Takes

**TF:A!verse Implied BlitzwingxStarscream  
Very short, I know. But that's all I wanted for this one. :3**

* * *

One night. It was just one measly interface. But could is processor leave it at that? No. Of course not.

After returning to his quarters the previous night once he and his new partner had cooled down enough to move about freely, his thoughts went rampant. Recharge came all-too-late, and as he sat now, exhausted, in his Second's chair at the hub of the _Nemesis,_ gazing into the endless sea of stars that was laid out in front of him, the purple and grey mech was occupying his processor again.

What was it that drew him in? Was it the way that his multiple personalities died down when he interfaced? Or was it that he was obviously extremely pent up from not being _able_ to interface due to lack of interest from other mechs? Perhaps it was the mystery of what really lay hidden beneath the mech's other personalities.

A particular glittering star caught his optics and he trained them there, watching the distant little could-be planet.

The triple-changer was a generous lover, something Starscream admired more than any mech even cared enough to find out. Especially his commander. What a lousy lay he was, always so quick to finish, never caring if he'd even made his second in command overload. Selfish was what he was, and selfish was how he'd stay.

Blitzwing, on the other hand, had actually made him overload _before_ even beginning to be concerned about his own pleasure; something the seeker had always loved.

Thankful he was alone, said seeker heaved a sigh through his vents and let his helm fall onto the control panel, uncaring if he'd mashed any buttons in the process. Merely thinking about the last recharge cycle was making his temperature rise. Perhaps getting out a stretching his wings would help him clear his muddled processor.

Lifting his heavy helm off of the control panel it rested on, he stood, giving himself a once-over and cycling a deep intake to try to cool his systems before he ran the risk of running into one of his subordinates on the way out and most likely embarrassing himself more than the situation did on its own.

He turned to leave the command room, but just as he spun around, a bulky body blocked his escape.

Starscream widened his optics and tilted his helm upwards to get a better look at who was in front of him in the dim lighting of the room. Glowing red optics that contrasted against a blue face met his, an unreadable emotion held in their depths.

"…Blitzwing."


	4. Final Farewell

**A/N: Animated!Verse Slightly implied LockdownxProwl. SEASON THREE SPOILERS.  
The song, "Perfect" by Burn Season helped with this one, but it was mostly this picture that threw the muse at me pretty hard: .com/art/Final-farewell-124087943  
I used parts of the little story thing that's in the artist's comments, and I borrowed the name of the picture for the title. I REALLY hope the artist doesn't mind. x.x**

* * *

It was the least he could do.

Lockdown made his way to the final resting place of the ninja-bot, a million things flooding his processor. Memories, like when he and the sleek younger bot fought to capture Starscream, and how he'd taken up his offers on the modifications.

Not only memories, but the things that he daydreamed about too…like lying with Prowl, making him feel the best he'd probably ever felt in the time he was online, seeing him at his best—or worst; it depended on whose side it was seen from. Of course Prowl would think something so intimate would be wrong, the worst, especially with a bot like Lockdown.

It hurt—maybe a little too much—knowing that now he could never even have the _chance_ to show Prowl how amazing he could make him feel. He could still hear the velvety voice of the ninja-bot, as if it were trying to distract him from flying his ship.

_Do ya want me to visit ya, or not?_ Lockdown thought, shuttering his optics for an elongated moment before returning his gaze to the endless sea of stars in front of him. He tried his best to keep the gold and black mech out of his processor, but it was more difficult than he'd first imagined. His chassis felt tight as his fans worked, each inhale seeming harder than the last.

The question of his luck came up next. Was Primus smiting him for doing what he did? Was he trying to tell him to pick a side and drop his bounty-hunting ways? He wouldn't.

He _would_ have, if Prowl had been an easier catch. But it just didn't work that way, did it? No, not for Lockdown. Ever.

He heaved a sigh as Cybertron grew larger and larger in his field of vision. _Almost._

He promised himself now that he would not come back to the memorial after this once. It would be a waste of time and energy and would just make him feel awful for knowing that there was nothing he could do to bring such a young life back.

_The good off-line young…_

What a glitch, Prowl was. He had so much to live for, how could he sacrifice himself like that?

_The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few…_

And that's where Lockdown differed from the Autobots. Selfishness; one of his most prominent traits; something Prowl had made him feel differently about.

_Forget it, he's gone. Nothing to do now._

But to say farewell and move on.

The bounty hunter's large ship landed just outside one of the most notorious mausoleums on Cybertron: one that housed the most famous 'heroes' in Cybertronian history.

The kid deserved the recognition for what he did.

Lockdown exited his ship, his poncho around his shoulders—it kept attention from being attracted to him--and made his way inside.

The mausoleum was huge. Lockdown wandered around for a bit, metal peds clanking against an equally metal floor; he slowed down to gaze at some memorials he passed by, recognizing a few designations from his younger solar-cycles, bot's he used to look up to. Before his outlook on life became bitter and twisted.

Finally, after almost two breems of wandering he saw it, Prowl's hologram, glowing, standing like a ghostly sentinel a short distance away on a pedestal with an engraving below it. Even seeing the hologram made Lockdown stiffen for a moment before he approached, closing the gap.

The last time he would see any form of Prowl that wasn't a memory… the very last.

The opaque memorial seemed to suck the strength right out of him. His vents sputtered and he had to concentrate on cycling air.

Pit. This was pure Pit, it had to be what eternal damnation felt like; the regret, the sorrow, the longing. The pressure he felt resting on his spark at the sight.

The air in the mausoleum was hot. Or maybe that was Lockdown's vents not working altogether. He lowered himself, hydraulics hissing softly as he knelt before the raised, three-dimensional image of the deceased ninja-bot. He tilted his helm down in silent commemoration and remembrance—a remembrance that, against his current knowledge, would never end.

He stayed that way only for a few moments, not wanting to stay too long and drag out the memories--memories that he hoped he could leave here with Prowl's off-line body. Lockdown rose slowly, lifting his head now to read the plaque, shaking his heavy helm:

_Brave warrior. Faithful friend. Hero to the Spark._

He took a deep intake as the truth finally set in. _What a loss…_

As he walked away, a few quiet words disturbed the silence of the memorial, "Rest well, kid. Rest well."

He hoped to Primus, the one he knew who had smited him into this position, that this would truly be the end. The end of his memories, of his daydreams, of his _hurt_.

The hurt that, in his countless solar cycles online, only Prowl had ever been able to stir up.


End file.
